A Taste of Forbbiden Passion
by NekoLen
Summary: My first non-MAR fic! One night Hamlet can't take the pressure anymore and turns to his best friend for comfort... If he is willing to give it to him. HamletXHoratio
1. Act I

Hey it's me! But this time, I'm writing a non-MAR FF! I'm so nervous! And excited! For those who don't know me, call me Reg!

This story contains scenes involving two boys doing grown-up things. If you don't like Yaoi, you can't say I told you so! I also had to do this story in three "acts"... Not chapters... "Acts"

BTW, I wrote this in modern-day English for the sake of your and my brain. I imagine them to be in their late teens - no younger than 16. This is set sometime before the duel between Hamlet and Laertes.

Inspiration for this story came from "Hamlet a novel" by John Marsden.

**"ACT I"**

The night was bitterly cold. It made people freeze in their beds to their sheets. It covered the ground with hard crunchy frost.

The moon, full and bright, had surveyed the Kingdom silently from its safe velvet pillow in the sky for the past few months; sorrowful for the events that had unfolded. It sent its false light in hope of warming the frost-bitten ground and shivering guards that paced the castle's battlements. It cut beams of silver into the castle windows, invading the darkness within.

A slice of pure silver had found its way through a gap in heavy velvet curtains that were drawn across a lonesome window, cutting through the dark abyss beyond. The icy room was silent and still, not a sound broke the ancient spell except the soft sounds of sleeping. The beam of moonlight lit one thirtieth of the room, making parts of the floor and bed visible.

Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, lay seemingly asleep in his bed, the band of light shining across his face. His face twitched. The light made his pale, sunken face seem demonic and ghostly. His eyes snapped open, looking steely in the light.

He sat and squinted around the darkness, dazzled by the light. He located the source of light, got up, crossed the room and roughly tugged the curtains all the way across the window.

Hamlet sat at the end of his bed, wide awake now, hot sick boiling in the pit of his stomach. He was weary, not because he had just awoken - he hadn't been asleep at all - but because of his troubles and worries.

Looking back on it all now only made him feel even more sick and tiresome. He felt older than he really was; a feeling that he knew too well. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to get rid of his sickness. It seemed that all these days acting crazy really was driving him mad.

His father died, and just a few weeks later, his mother married his uncle. If this wasn't stressful enough for the poor boy, he was visited by the spirit of his father who declared to him that murder most foul was responsible for his death. Hamlet swore revenge and began to plan the death of the new King. In an insane rush, he accidentally murdered Polonius and his dear love (daughter of Polonius) Ophelia went mad and drowned.

Now he was alone. Alone in his plot against Claudius. No one could help him. Not even his best friend Horatio.

As if called by his thoughts, there came a knock on the door. Startled by the time of the night they had chosen to visit, Hamlet went to open the door. The moonlight lit up Horatio standing before him, wearing a thick coat and having no need for a candle because of the brightness of the moon.

Hamlet blinked and stood, staring at his friend in mild surprise.

"I thought you would be awake," Horatio whispered.

"Look at the time," Hamlet replied weakly, standing aside to let the blonde into his room. He closed the door with a snap and turned around. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

"I'm worried about you," Horatio answered, sitting on his bed. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"Who have I been then?" Hamlet sighed, sitting next to his friend. "You're right to be worried. But that's all you can do."

Horatio sighed as well and looked away. "I knew you'd something like that."

"You know me too well," Hamlet muttered. "But not well enough," he added softly to himself. He would never know the full extent of how he felt. He was no Crown Prince. Horatio turned his head and surveyed him through the gloom.

"How are you going?" he cautioned, not wanting to sound too rude. He may be his best friend, but Hamlet was still a Prince.

"You come to me at God-knows how late at night to ask me... How I am going?" Hamlet asked, stifling laughter.

"Well, I have a good reason to ask you!" Horatio said, his face burning. He hated being proved an idiot. He was a scholar after all - the top in his class; in the same league as Hamlet. "You've just lost your girlfriend. Plus, I was told to stay away from you. Apparently you've gone mad."

"As mad as a hatter," Hamlet murmured. He smiled over at Horatio, but his face fell. He didn't want to hide behind his mask anymore. He was too tired now. Horatio was his best friend, he wouldn't care.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply in and out, listening to the silence.

"You worry too much," Horatio commented sympathetically. "You have such a burden on your shoulders... It would drive anyone mad."

At the sound of the last comment, Hamlet sat up and faced his friend, gazing into his eyes. He remembered all the times his friend understood him, all those times that he made him feel better. He remembered when they were younger and curious. They had experimented by kissing each other. It felt good, but Hamlet wasn't interested. He had Ophelia... Not anymore.

"Hey, Horatio?"

"Yes?"

"Can remember when we kissed?" he asked, studying the boy closely. Horatio blushed. Of course he remembered that kiss. It haunted his dreams and his thoughts to know that once he had kissed a Prince and liked it. If this didn't make him gay, he didn't know what did. He kept quiet, blessing the darkness that hid his embarrassment.

"Why do you ask?" he fired back instead.

"I ask because I was thinking about it. As I thought, I wondered, 'I wonder if Horatio remembers it,' and so I asked you," Hamlet replied. "I asked you because I wanted to know how you felt when we did it. Answer accordingly and you shall make me happier than I have ever been for a long time."

Hamlet peered at Horatio, trying to distinguish the boy's facial expression. 'If he likes it, I shall give him more. I'll see what he thinks and let him comfort me.'

"Do you recall the taste of passion, unbidden, lingering on our lips? The luke-warm hotness that awoke in our bodies?" He leaned forward and stroked Horatio's face with a finger, surprised at the silky baby-smoothness of his skin. "Answer me, please my dear Horatio. If you didn't love me, why would you come to me, worried, in the middle of the night?"

Horatio felt like a mouse being backed into a corner by a tiger. "Love and loyalty are two different things," Horatio answered, but not pulling away as Hamlet moved closer. He cleared his throat, looking away from the advancing Prince. He felt awkward and startled as Hamlet rested his head on his shoulder.

END OF ACT I


	2. Act II

"ACT II"

"My head is weary, yet I cannot sleep," Hamlet whispered, true fatigue apparent in his voice. He wanted Horatio to take the burden off his shoulders. He wanted him to take all the pain and suffering and turn it to love and healing. He wanted his mind to be clear. "Help me my friend."

Horatio didn't know what to do. He was torn between his love for his friend and his duty as the Prince's companion. Between passion and duty. Not only was it sacrilege to be homosexual, it would be blasphemy for him to do stuff to royalty - wanted or unwanted.

"I can't. I'm sorry," he said, going against his heart. "That kiss was in the past, and that's where it will stay."

"So you put your duty before your heart?" Hamlet interrogated in disgust. He snapped his head up. Horatio sighed. He reached up for the boy's head and pushed it lightly so it rested on his shoulder again.

"I don't mind comforting you as a friend," he stated. He let his hand linger there for a while, running his fingers through the soft white hair. "Remember, I'm your friend first and a servant to the Prince second."

"Then why won't you love me?" Hamlet sounded like a frightened child. This scared Horatio. Maybe Hamlet had sunk so far into the depths of insanity that he couldn't think straight at all. Gone were the random rants of nothing but something at the same time. 'He must be tired from all that thinking and plotting. All the scheming and inaction... All the revenge and hate must be seriously draining his energy,' he thought to himself, moving so Hamlet's head fell into his lap and he was cradling him with his arms.

"Just rest," he told the Prince. He smiled down at him.

What happened next startled Horatio probably as much as it startled Hamlet; their lips met. Horatio's eyes were wide as he let Hamlet's tongue intrude his mouth. Slowly, very slowly, he closed his eyes, enjoying the passion that bloomed like Spring between them. He ran his hands across Hamlet's hair and down his neck.

As sudden as it had happened, they had stopped. Hamlet collapsed back onto his friend's lap, running his moist tongue across his tingling lips. His cold eyes met Horatio's warm ones and he smiled.

"What was that?" Horatio cautioned. The Prince must be in the wrong state of mind. He was worried about what he would do next.

"It depends what you'd call it. In your language it would be called a kiss; a pash; playing tonsil-hockey; call it what you like. But to me it is called proof," Hamlet said, sitting up and facing Horatio with the tension of a cat about to pounce. Horatio knew this look well enough. It meant trouble.

"Proof of what?" he asked, watching Hamlet closely.

"Proof that you feel more than loyalty towards me. Proof that it's passion you feel and even if you are too stubborn to give me yourself, I can take it from you and you would be willing."

"I thought you liked girls," Horatio spoke, edging slightly away. He was certain that he knew what Hamlet was about to do and didn't want it to happen. If it happened it couldn't unhappen and anything could happen. He had to re-ponder this thought before he could understand what it meant.

"But girls are a waste of my time." Hamlet crawled closer so that his face hovered over his startled friend's face. "Let's try it. Let's have a little intrigue..." he whispered, laying his body on top of Horatio's. Horatio fell back, shocked, but he didn't struggle; somehow he wanted this. He stared quietly up at Hamlet's cold eyes and mean expression. Did he really care about him if it wasn't meaningful?

Hamlet's mind was whizzing. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He was frightened of himself. But one thing was clearer to him than anything else: he wanted his friend to comfort him, to love him and make him feel better. He felt tears spring into his eyes and he put his lips onto Horatio's, drawing in a long kiss and willing himself to stop being so weak. He was draining Horatio of his strength and courage and was absorbing it. He clasped Horatio's wrists and pushed his arms above his head. He then proceeded to undress him, still kissing him hard.

Feeling light-headed now, Hamlet wrenched apart their kiss, sitting back on his knees and staring down at the panting boy. He completed taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his pants silently, while fixing Horatio with his mean steely-eyed stare. Horatio felt like a mouse hypnotised under a snake's glare. He didn't want to protest or move because Hamlet could strike, but just to lay there while the obscene boy committed several atrocities against him... If someone found out about this, they could say that Horatio - who was the only person that Hamlet trusted - took advantage of the unstable Prince and he would be hung without a second thought.

"Hamlet? Are you sure...?" Horatio started, placing a hand on the Prince's chest, pushing him back.

Hamlet knocked away his friend's arm. "Ssh. Sometimes it's better if you just... act. Some of the greatest, most passionate acts were done in the moment and not thought about. This is one of... those things," he whispered, touching and stroking Horatio's naked body. He liked the way he could control the boy with just a touch of his fingers. It fulfilled his desire for something he was in power of, because his own life and destiny wasn't his own anymore.

"Have you ever done this before?" Horatio asked nervously. He didn't want to be hurt. His heart was beating painfully fast in his chest. Maybe what Hamlet said was right... But he didn't want it to hurt.

"Sort of," Hamlet breathed into Horatio's ear. "I did it with Ophelia... But I guess doing a guy is different?" he said it as a question. But before he could launch into the philosophy and complications of 'doing it' with a guy, Horatio kissed him back.

"Just like you said... No more thinking... Just plain acting," Horatio explained to the shocked Hamlet, panting slightly. He had chosen to go with his passion and let the Prince do what he wanted to his body. After all, this is what he wanted deep down. 


	3. Act III

"Take off your clothes," he grunted as Hamlet licked his neck.

Hamlet sat up again and smirked. He took off his top and watched as Horatio scanned the pale chest with, eager, greedy eyes. He found himself feeling slightly disgusted in both himself and the boy the lay underneath him.

'This is what he wanted all along... He was only my friend so he could lust after me... Oh, Lust... fuel our intentions now!' he thought, sliding out of his pants.

Lying naked together in the lonely room; kissing, stroking, and embracing felt amazing. Horatio's heart was racing in his throat as the delicious feeling of pleasure, love and trusting made him feel giddy and dizzy.

Hamlet lay on top of Horatio, feeling hot and heavy. He pushed his hips, gasping at the friction, but wanting more at the same time. He was in control of this. He was controlling Horatio's feelings, his needs, and his wants.

"I want to go inside you," he growled into the helpless boy's ear. "No... I NEED to go inside you."

Before Horatio could complain or reject the offer, Hamlet sat back on his knees and lifted his friend's legs, placing them on his shoulders. Horatio gasped, shuddering uncontrollably. He hadn't expected this at all and wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with it.

Hamlet did need this. He needed the comfort and the pleasure to forget the past and present. He closed his eyes, panting hard as he entered Horatio. It felt so unbelievably good. His emotions exploded and he became a lustful beast, thrusting his hips and moaning loudly, sinking his claws into Horatio's side. He forgot his pain, his vengeance, his Ophelia. Everything was happening now. This pleasure and deep trusting... And he was in control.

"Do you like it?" Hamlet panted. Horatio couldn't reply. He was lost in the moment, eyes half-closed and mouth hanging open, clutching at Hamlet's arms as if scared but lustful at the same time. They were nearing their climax.

Hamlet's mind started whirring once more. He didn't want to lose control again, but he knew he was going to once that tight passage tightened further around his erection. So during the last few seconds of frantic love-making, Hamlet pulled out. He kissed Horatio long and hard. He proceeded to lick, kiss and suck his way down the paralysed body.

Horatio was stunned, he was stuck near the point of an extreme euphoria he had never felt before. He was so close that it was maddening. Why was Hamlet fooling around with his body when it just wanted to have an orgasm and get it over and done with. He tried to voice his concerns to Hamlet, but his body kept being rocked by intense sensations so all he could moan out was, "Hamlet... Fuck me..."

Hamlet loved this. Horatio was depending on him to release him from his personal hell. But he didn't want to; not just yet. Even though his own body was aching with the need to come, he continued to stroke and lick and kiss until Horatio was a trembling, sobbing mess. Moaning in agony, Horatio pleaded with Hamlet earnestly, begging him to help him release.

Hamlet then gave in to his body and slipped back into that tight hole just n time for them both to fall of the edge of intense ecstasy.

Panting, Hamlet pulled out, reality spiralling back down to hit him hard. He clutched at his friend and cried until - exhausted - he fell asleep. Horatio turned awkwardly, feeling wet and sticky. He stared at the Prince's sweaty face as he relaxed into a deep sleep.

"Sleep well, my sweet Prince," he whispered, kissing Hamlet softly on the forehead. "One day we can be together... But not until you get over your thirst for revenge... One way or another."

He got up, clothed himself and left in silence, not knowing that they would never be together ever again.

Aw! Poor Horatio. No wonder he wanted to kill himself as Hamlet lay dying! Oh well, finally finished. Even though this was only three chapters long, it took me about 3 months to write, type up and post!!! 


End file.
